George Knew
by FredFanatic
Summary: George knew he should leave her. They shouldn't be together. Not now, not ever. He knew, but he also knew he would never leave. Because George knew he had found someone who may be just as damaged as he was.


**A/N:** I have a severe case of writer's block preventing me from updating either of my in-progress stories. In an attempt to get myself back in the game, I thought maybe writing something completely different would help inspire me. Maybe I'll get back into the writing spirit. For now, here's a little one-shot that wormed its way into my brain. It's not my usual style of one-shot. So be warned. There's nothing fluffy about this story at all.

Read and review, please.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.

**---- George Knew ----**

George knew.

Every time he looked at her he knew.

He knew she didn't love him. She didn't want to be there. In fact, this was probably the last place she wanted to be. George's apartment—his flat that was once _their_ flat—was the only place she knew to come to when she was feeling lost. But it wasn't him that she sought out.

No, it was never him.

Angelina sought comfort from George only because he was as close as she could get…

Close as she could get to the one she really wanted.

To _Fred_.

Fred was the one she pictured as she ran into George's arms, pushing almost aggressively against him. George knew when she kissed him her mind was plagued by the memory of kisses she had once shared with _him_. But she didn't have him anymore. There was no more Fred to run to.

Fred was _gone_.

He was lost forever to everyone who loved him. And that included Angelina.

She came to him now, only because she had somehow deluded herself into thinking it would make her feel better. That somehow being around George would keep Fred alive for her.

It was foolish and desperate, and very, very _wrong_. But still, she would continue to do it. She was selfish and heartbroken and weak.

George knew.

Every time she looked at him she saw Fred.

He knew that was stupid. Never once in his life did Fred look as beaten and lifeless as George did now.

Even when he had died, Fred still looked more alive than George could possibly bring himself to feel.

It was disgraceful to his brother's memory that people still looked at George and saw Fred—disgusting that they would accidentally call him by Fred's name. He couldn't possibly look any further from Fred and everything that he embodied.

But still, Angelina clung to George because she needed to be near _Fred_.

Several times George wanted to shove her away…to tell her she was being stupid. She hadn't even been _dating_ him when he was killed. They had broken up ages before the final battle. It angered him deeply that she was so bent on staying with Fred, when in reality their relationship had already run its course. Now he was stuck with his brother's leftovers.

…a desperate, teary-eyed girl who was too heartbroken to pull herself together and move on.

But, even so, George couldn't bring himself to pull away from her. He couldn't bring himself to toss her aside.

He knew that he should. It would be best for both of them. She could find someone else—someone much more alive than him—and move on. And George…well…even though he knew he'd never be the same again, he also knew there was something better out there for him.

He _could_ be happy, if he were willing to try really hard. With Angelina, that would never be the case. Because with her, he was constantly reminded of what he lost. He knew she experienced the very same thing.

Every morning that he woke up to her lying next to him in his bed he felt…filthy. He was disgusted with himself for letting it drag on as long as it had. They had fallen into a terrifying routine. Their lives were utterly consumed by desperation, anger and pity.

It was unhealthy.

George knew.

When he asked her to marry him, he knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life. Her face had lit up in false happiness when she saw the ring. But George knew it was all an act. Her eyes gave away all of the bitterness…the never-ending anger and despair that was constantly plaguing her. Or maybe it was just a reflection of his own gaze that he saw there…

It didn't matter.

She said yes, and George faked a smile as well.

He knew then that he would never recover.

When they bought their first apartment together, they fought—a lot.

They bickered and carried on—the realtor almost ran off in fear when Angelina tossed a flower pot at George's head. He knew their relationship was going to be like this forever. They hated each other.

Angelina hated George for looking like Fred—for making her want him just because he was his twin. She hated him for living instead of his brother. She hated that _he _had been the one to survive. And George…George hated Angelina for being with him. He hated that he would never be able to fill the hole in her heart that Fred's death had ripped out. He hated that they were together.

He knew they would continue to hate each other forever. He knew they would never be happy.

He knew.

And yet, he wouldn't leave.

He wouldn't, and he _couldn't_ leave. He knew Angelina didn't want this. He knew he didn't want it, either. But he wouldn't end it.

Instead, they signed the lease on the apartment. They moved in their furniture. They got married. And they started their miserable life together.

Because George knew he had found someone who may be just as damaged as he was. Angelina was suffering every day. Perhaps not as much as he was, but it was enough.

When Angelina found out she was pregnant, George almost left.

He came really close.

They fought again—screaming at each other until a neighbour came to investigate. George was angry with her for letting herself get pregnant. That wasn't supposed to happen. With children in the picture, George's fate was sealed. He would never be able to get away.

Of course, George knew he never _would_ leave, even if she hadn't been pregnant. But he would have liked to have the choice. With a choice, there was still a glimmer of hope. But now…he had nothing.

Angelina hated George for saying it was her fault. She hadn't wanted children either. In fact, she threatened to go down to the hospital and have the child aborted.

George stopped her.

He didn't love Angelina, and a family was the last thing they needed. But he wouldn't let an innocent child suffer because of the mistakes he had made.

And so, Angelina had the baby.

Only it wasn't just one baby. It was twins. And that made everything so much worse.

Twins were just another reminder of what George had lost.

When the babies were brought to him, George almost couldn't control himself. He very nearly cried at the sight. They were tiny and helpless and fragile. He couldn't remember ever seeing a sight both so beautiful and so terrifying at the same time.

The girl they named Roxanne. The boy…

Angelina was hell-bent on naming him Fred. George wasn't so sure. He felt unworthy. He didn't think a child born out of pity and spite should have the name of someone so purely wonderful and genuinely _good_. It seemed somehow wrong.

But as George stared down at his son, he knew.

There was life inside of him. In his son he could see the hope.

George knew if there was anyone worthy of his brother's name, this little baby was it.

George stared down at his son for ages. Angelina held Roxanne with a motherly glow he hadn't expected to see. But it was baby Fred that captivated George's interest so entirely.

His son was too small and too young to even be able to open his eyes, but when they finally did open, he knew.

When baby Fred's eyes opened for the first time, he was in his father's arms. George nearly gasped when their eyes met, because what he saw there filled his life with purpose once more.

Fred…Fred who looked so much like him…so much like the brother George had lost—stared up at him. There seemed to be happiness sparkling in his eyes, although George wasn't sure how that would be possible at such a young age, and with parents who were so screwed up. But it was there, staring up at him through blue eyes that were undeniably Fred's.

And George knew.

It was too late for him.

George could no longer leave. Because leaving now would not save him from the miserable life he had created for himself.

Nothing would.

And yet, his desire to leave no longer plagued his mind. It didn't matter how entirely he despised his relationship with Angelina. It no longer mattered how much they hated each other.

Because although it was too late for the two of them, they now had something much more important to stay for.

Perhaps George would never truly be happy again. Perhaps he'd never endure a single day without wishing he too had died in the final battle. Maybe he'd never get over the heart-wrenching pain that came with losing a twin brother—and a best friend.

But in his son's eyes he managed to find hope.

Fred's spirit would live on…and his legacy would be renewed.

That much, George knew.


End file.
